


advanced linguistics

by qlexy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Unspecified Timeline, dean left them alone for six minutes thirty-seven seconds and this is what they be doing, fic inspired by fanart, fluff with sprinkles of angst, hot for linguistically gifted angel, mild swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 05:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13697655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qlexy/pseuds/qlexy
Summary: Sam wanted to get some work done, but that was before Castiel showed up and read Hebrew to him like it was second nature.





	advanced linguistics

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, I first started watching Supernatural back in December and now here I am! A right mess! Talk about a quick escalation. 
> 
> Anyway, what you're about to read is the result of a good ol' late night tumblr & cry - the fanart that inspired it can be found [here](http://jazzforthecaptain.tumblr.com/post/170858488018/youve-got-pressure-drippin-off-your-shoulders) and it belongs to [jazzforthecaptain](http://jazzforthecaptain.tumblr.com) on tumblr. 
> 
> This also gave me an excellent excuse to listen to "Just a little bit" and claim it's for research, so that was a nice bonus. 
> 
> Enjoy! xx

_Research didn’t use to be this tiring_ , he kept thinking as he rolled his weary shoulders with a sigh, unsuccessfully attempting to relieve some of the coiled tension there.  
  
All the hours spent hunched over heavy tomes and faded scrolls had his body begging to just lie down for a little while, but abandoning the case for some rest wasn’t an option at the moment.  
  
He’d endure. He always did.  
  
And at least it was quiet. Dean hadn’t popped back in for just over an hour now and if Sam was honest, he was grateful for it.  
  
His mood had rapidly depleted once it became apparent that they’d be hitting the books for this case, and while he would’ve appreciated his help, a moody Dean was less helpful than no Dean at all.  
  
Another fifteen minutes of absolutely nothing passed and Sam was beginning to think that he should call it quits for today. The words on the pages in front of him started to blur and merge and swim, their meanings escaping him the further he read.  
  
He rubbed at his eyes a few times to no avail and finally shut the book with an audible snap.  
  
That was book number eleven and still, nothing - there had to be something, _anything_ , he knew from the records that they got what they needed right here somewhere…

…and yet.  
  
This should be impossible but Sam knew the odds weren’t exactly in his favour lately (if they ever were).  
  
The shuffling of footsteps nearby snapped him out of his thoughts and he tensed for a brief second before recognising who they belonged to.  
  
“Cas”, he said, lifting his head and startling a little when he found him sat on the research table right in front of him, feet dangling, trenchcoat abandoned and concentration elsewhere. He was holding a book that looked just as old and worn as the one Sam had been thumbing through before his interruption. Sam noticed he had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. It suited him more than he cared to admit.  
  
Nevertheless, he welcomed the distraction gladly ( _maybe a bit too gladly come on get a grip tone it down play it cool Sam -_ ) and smiled lazily up at him. “You find anything?”  
  
“It’s a spell”, Castiel answered seriously. His eyes never left the massive tome cradled in his arms - it looked ridiculously oversized against him, not that his vessel was a small one by any measure, and that, Sam thought, was charming in its own right.  
  
“An ancient one, I haven’t seen powerful spellwork like this in centuries. There’s a reversal in this book, although I can tell it’s incomplete.”  
There was a crease in between Castiel’s eyebrows as he swapped English for Hebrew without missing a single beat, giving life to the words on the page as if they were always meant to be read aloud.  
  
Meant to be read aloud by _him_.  
  
The effect this had on Sam was horrific, devastating. 

The words weren’t magic or anything like it, not yet at least. They were incomplete like Castiel had said. And anyway, that would’ve been bad, of course, but nothing compared to this.  
  
Because this? This was humiliating.  
  
Castiel was three words in and all Sam could think about was tearing his clothes off and getting it on with him right here on that same table.  
  
The image alone should shock him out of whatever he was on (and heat flushed his cheeks as vivid memories from last time raced each other inside his mind, _skin to skin in the humming Impala with the danger of detection lingering in the space between their hasty conversation_ ).  
  
Thankfully, Cas wasn’t paying him any mind.  
  
Why his angel-powered language fluency was such an epic turn on, he didn’t know, but it was and it was rapidly developing into somewhat of a problem if his inability to think straight was anything to go by.  
  
Sam couldn’t help himself as he watched those pink, pink lips shape around foreign letters, his eyes transfixed by the rounding and the closing and the occasional flash of teeth.  
  
The air in the room seemed to weigh heavily on his skin all of a sudden, his grey shirt constricting, clinging to him with an excessive amount of fabric that he was sure wasn’t there before.  
  
And if Castiel was aware of the impact his idle reading time had on him then he didn’t show it.  
  
Sam was glad to be sitting down because he wouldn’t have trusted his knees to hold him upright when Cas slipped back into English just as seamlessly: “It makes no sense, I don’t know what’s missing.”  
  
Sam swallowed thickly, taking a moment to sort the rush of sensations tingling down his spine into _justifiable_ and _not so much_.  
  
The timing was inconvenient but he was so far gone that it hardly even mattered. This thing, this whole spur of the moment, end-of-the-world kinda _hunger_ they both felt, this blinding, scalding emotion had to be taken care of. 

They couldn’t continue like this. They, _he_ had to take back control before it all fell apart at the seams.  
  
Just maybe not right now.  
  
“Hey, Cas”, Sam started once he had settled on a plan of action, “where’s Dean?”  
  
He watched Castiel’s tongue dart out to lick at his chapped lips and very nearly lost his dwindling patience right then and there.  
  
Cas didn’t seem to appreciate the sudden change of topic and Sam got it, he really did, but god it had been _too long_ -  
  
“He went out to buy food because he was about to fall victim to insanity in this place. I’m not sure I understand how that happens.”  
  
Sam nodded his head in response, his gaze hyperfixed on a mouth that wasn’t anywhere near where he wanted it to be.  
  
“Right, right.. and when did he leave?” If he hadn’t been so distracted, he might’ve congratulated himself on maintaining a conversational tone.  
  
“Six minutes and thirty-seven seconds ago”, Cas said, confusion now etched onto his offensively beautiful features and eyes unblinking.  
  
Sam nodded again. “Mh.. that’s great, perfect actually, that’s..”  
  
Castiel tilted his head to the side, squinting in that familiar fashion of his. Was there mild concern in there, too? It wasn’t important.  
“Sam, why are you ask-”  
  
But Sam would have none of that now, not when there was no time to waste and entirely more creative matters to attend to.  
  
(Cas would later claim that he shushed him, which Sam had zero recollection of.)  
  
Sam swiftly fisted one of his hands in the angel’s tie and used it to tug his face towards him with rough force, ignoring the startled little sound he gave in favour of crashing his lips against Castiel’s.  
  
This, this was what he wanted, that intoxicating rush of _something_ , the taste of rain water and softly pulsing grace beneath (he recoiled the first time he felt it because it was too much, too much, too much but it didn’t take him long to discover how entirely _Cas_ it was, how unlike what he thought a touch of grace should feel like, always felt like).  
  
Maybe it wasn’t the healthiest of his obsessions but it was real, it was there and it wasn’t enough.  
  
Castiel’s response was immediate and sent sparks flying somewhere in his gut, body alight all over as they kissed like they were starving for it, all hands and teeth and tongues and Sam loved it.  
  
He somehow wished he could communicate to Cas that he wanted him to mouth all those damn fucking words against his skin with his infuriating fucking lips but he didn’t know how to translate those desires into speech just yet, so he settled for the next best thing.  
  
Castiel groaned low in his throat when he buried one of his hands in his short, dark hair and Sam was suddenly reminded why that particular sound was such a favourite as he felt him wrap his legs around his torso.  
  
“Should we really be doing this now?”, Castiel asked when he pulled away for a moment, his lips parted and slightly swollen from where they impacted with Sam’s relentless longing.  
  
“Do you really care about that?”, Sam challenged. Unlike Castiel, he was actually out of breath. _Of course_ , his insecurities started to whisper, _if I misread any of th-_  
  
“It’s unprofessional, Sam”, Castiel said gravely, fixing him with a meaningful look. “Which is a word I’d apply to everything we ever do, so I guess this is… in character.”  
  
Sam’s huffed laughter quickly turned into delighted gasps as Cas pulled on his hair and closed the distance between them once more.  
  
Needless to say, research was put temporarily on hold that afternoon. 


End file.
